Ties
by Miranda C
Summary: Ariadne learns that some ties can never really be broken. She wanted to forget. But somethings just force themselves on you.


Chapter 1

Ariadne's eyes flew open. They flew open faster than on the day of her graduation, faster than the day of her eighteenth birthday, her twenty first too, for that matter. In fact, she cannot remember a time when her eyes flew open faster than today.

We did it.

This elation lifted the corners of her lips into a beaming smile. Exhilaration of this magnitude of having just achieved what was deemed by everyone else as 'impossible' was enough to push every other though, fear or concern into the depth of her mind. She could not prevent herself from casting a straightforward glance at their unfortunate Mark, Robert Fischer, across the aisle. When he turned in her direction with a quizzical look, she returned it with her own expression of apparent confusion. Such action was bold gaining no recommendations from her teammates; but she doubted that anyone in the cabin could share her excitement and joy at this completion.

A cackle of static flitted through the intercom. A male voice followed, cool and collected.  
"Ladies and gentlemen, we shall be landing shortly at Los Angeles International Airport. We hope you have had a pleasant flight and we hope to fly with you again in the future. Thank you!"

Ariadne turned towards her window, shiftly ever so slightly in her large first class chair. A pleasant flight she thought sardonically, if a definition of a pleasant flight involved the constant fear of limbo and falling into a coma, then perhaps, this was a very pleasant flight indeed.

Ariadne thrust her hands into her pocket. Her fingers found hard metal. The gold bishop felt cold and reassuring at her touch. Her fingers wrapped tightly around it, savouring its smooth, hard contour.

There was a niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach, gradually digging into her flesh. Suddenly, she felt lightheaded. Lightheaded from worry. Surely, the impossible could not be so smoothly achieved. But these men was associated with the impossible. A month ago, Ariadne was not even aware shared dreaming was possible, not the mention Extraction.

Extraction.

Limbo..

Cobb.

She tightened her grip on her totem until it dug painfully into her palm. Overwhelmed by the desire to spin around to catch sight of the entire team blinking, she risked a quick glance.

Behind Fischer, Cobbs' eyes remained tightly shut.

The instinct in her stomach rose in a crescendo, turning into a gut wrenching, heart pounding fear waiting to overflow. No! Ariadne pulled out her totem, hurriedly sat it by the window. She pushed.

*****

The bishop toppled soundlessly, but this action seemed to reverberate within the confines of Ariadne's mind. She snatched it up bent on repeating this action. It toppled, again. And again. And again. Cobb might just be resting. She clutched her totem tighter. Her previous elation all disappeared. Never in her life has she hoped more to be surrounded by the surreal reality of dreams than now.

"Don't look back, Ariadne. Remember 'perfect strangers.'"

Arthur's warning rang loud in her ears. She did not look back. Her stomach clenched into tight knots, bitter vile permeated her mouth. Ariadne wanted so much to turn back, to catch her last glance of Cobbs , unconscious as he was taken away on a stretcher surrounded by officers. Another man ruined by temptation. But she continued walking.

Heavy glass doors loomed before her. The taxi stand empty with a line of desolate taxis. Bright sunlight streamed through the glass. Ariadne quickened her pace. She found herself clench Her jaws. Stalking out, she flagged the first taxi. The boot shut with a satisfying bang.

"Ariadne."

She spun around, spinning so fast she lost her balance. Arthur grasped her arm, raising his eyebrow imperceptibly.

"Ariadne, where would you be staying at here?" She blinked. Her stomach sank. A frown fell on her brow. Hesitation ran through her.

Ariadne felt like a child under Arthur's all knowing gaze. Her stomach sank. She was truly alone. And not just in LA. Where was she going to go? A hotel name registered. It was the hotel her brother had taken her when they came to LA before she left for France. She murmured, "The Peninsular."

Arthur saw her eyes glaze for a moment, before responding.

"Under the name of your... passport?"

A nod.

"M'dm?"

Arthur gave her forearm a squeeze, before briskly turning around fast disappearing into the throng of milling people. 

Ariadne pushed the bishop over and over again balanced precariously on her knee. It toppled every time, over and over again. There could be no denial that whatever just occurred was reality, definitely reality.

Cobbs has succumbed to Limbo. He was taken into protective custody in his coma state. His children, whom he had worked so hard for, were left completely alone. Ariadne wanted to hit something, anything. He had them all strung up nicely, pulling the strings attached snugly onto each member of the team. In the end, everything fell apart, he did not possess enough willpower. The team has managed to perform inception but whatever he was working for failed. This job was pointless.

Ariadne toppled her bishop again. As the taxi gave a lurch, it toppled onto the floor. She could have helped him, taken him from there, preventing him from falling into a coma she could have warned the team. Arthur could have told them about Fischer's subconscious protections. but she didn't. she could have done so much mor, but, of course, she did none.

Slowly, Ariadne placed the bishop back inside her pocket. It sat there, solid and hard against her leg. She laid her head back. A wave of guilt passed through her, exhausting her. Her eyes stung. She felt a trickle of something wet slid down her cheek. It coated her lips. Ariadne tasted salt. Tears. She was crying.

Crying form what? Anger? Sadness? Ariadne saw the faceless figures of Cobbs' children, Phillipa and Carl flit across her mind's eye. Having ever only seen them in Cobbs' memories, she feels attached to them in the most obscure threads. The heartbreaking fact that they may never see their father again cut her. She wondered it ignorance may be better for them.

Suddenly, Phillipa and Carl's image faded away, replaced with her own ten year old self. Ariadne watched herself with morbid curiosity even though she knew exactly what was going to happen, huddled in the corner of her tree house, a mass of tangled hair, salty tears and terror.

Her mother was a workaholic but wealthy attorney. Her father was an out of work attorney from what Ariadne could detect. After having two children, her brother Frederic and her, their marriage had been everything but peaceful, ruled by arguments. Before that memory of herself huddled in the tree house, her parents had a huge fight. Her mother in her cool, sardonic voice filled with acrimony and her versus her father in his loud, booming voice rising in shouts and profanities.

Ariadne had been terrified, running and hiding in her treehouse built by her father but designed by her. She pulled her legs to her chest, hoping no one would find her. Frederic had joined her. For once, e wrapped a comforting arm around her, murmuring, 'Dad's gonna leave and never come back, Ariadne.'

The she heard the desperate screech of tyres on the driveway. They stayed huddled together for the entire night. Ariadne waited for her mother to come, but she never did. In the morning, she heard the quite hum of another car. Peering through the leaves, she catch a glimpse of her mother's sleek Mercedes slide onto the street.

Two days later, her mother informed them their father was killed in a car accident two previous nights ago. Ariadne never went back into the treehouse.

The despair welled up in her fresh and raw, just like that day all those years ago. The prospect of never seeing her father again shredded her heart.

"Miss?"


End file.
